


Bet On It

by someonestolemyshoes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Bad Dirty Talk, Bets, Blow Jobs, Competition, Fluff, Kisses, Lube, M/M, Smut, Tumblr Prompt, Where do I begin, based on art, lots of kisses, reallycorking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonestolemyshoes/pseuds/someonestolemyshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It isn’t all that often that Hinata finds himself really, honestly, actually bored, because more often than not he’s playing volleyball, or practicing volleyball, or eating food or thinking about volleyball and when he’s not doing any of that, he’s sleeping. </p><p>But today, the flat is stiflingly warm and the sun is blazing beyond the window, and Hinata is really, honestly, actually bored."</p><p>-</p><p>Prompt: You take writing prompts about Haikyuu right? So what about Hinata and Kageyama having a competition on who can get the other off faster during oral or hand jobs?? Or sex in general?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bet On It

**Author's Note:**

> oi oi!! Boy it's been a while, my bad. I've been in a full-blown writing funk and I think it's pretty noticeable with this fic BUT whatever it's not the worst and I've been really stoked to do this prompt for AGES now. Kudos to reallycorking on tumblr for the [art](http://reallyporning.tumblr.com/post/144482375844/14-69) that inspired this!

It isn’t all that often that Hinata finds himself really, honestly, _actually_ bored, because more often than not he’s playing volleyball, or practicing volleyball, or eating food or thinking about volleyball and when he’s not doing any of that, he’s sleeping.

But today, the flat is stiflingly warm and the sun is blazing beyond the window, and Hinata is really, honestly, actually _bored_.

“Kageyama,” he says, poking his toe against the bare skin of Kageyama’s thigh. He’s not really expecting it to do all that much - Kageyama is the heaviest sleeper in the _world_ , probably - and he tries again, nudges a little harder and speaks a little louder.

Kageyama snorts, crumples his face until the bridge of his nose is one big maze of creases, and then he settles again, and Hinata huffs a big, noisy breath through his nostrils. For a moment, he almost feels bad - _almost_ , because Kageyama really does look all kinds of peaceful when he’s sleeping - but the feeling passes fast enough, and Hinata levels back and kicks at Kageyama’s knee.

“Oi!” Kageyama’s voice is sleep-slurred but it’s angry enough, all deep and gravelly and booming throughout the flat, and Hinata tucks his knees up to his chin and peers at Kageyama over the top of them.

“I’m _bored_.”

For a moment, Kageyama just blinks at him. Long and slow and steady, like the air between them is thick and gloopy and Hinata’s words are sticking to it, but then something dark sweeps down over his face, pulls at his brows and the corners of his mouth until he’s really, fully scowling.

“Idiot,” he says, scoops a cushion from the sofa and whacks it against Hinata’s head. “I’m _tired_.”

“I know,” Hinata says, and Kageyama looks, for a moment, like he might _actually_ murder him. “I know, but I’m super bored and it’s too hot to sleep and,” he holds up his hands to block the second swing from the cushion, “and if we do something now, you’ll be even _more_ tired for when we go to bed, right?”

It’s...sound enough logic, Hinata thinks, and Kageyama must think the same because he takes a moment to consider before he drops his head to the back of the sofa and sighs out a long, defeated kind of breath.

“What do you wanna do?”

“Dunno,” Hinata says, and Kageyama glares over at him.

“You woke me up because you’re bored and you don’t even have any _ideas_?”

It does sound kind of bad, put like that, and Hinata tells Kageyama so with the weaponized cushion clutched tight to his chest.

They sit, for a while, in a silence that isn’t _entirely_ comfortable. Hinata wracks his brain for ideas and draws little patterns over the back of Kageyama’s hand with the tip of his finger as he thinks; there’s a volleyball, and he adds a little net to go with it, and a stick man that probably doesn’t fit together all that well because his head is somewhere near Kageyama’s knuckles and his legs started in roughly the same place, and still he can’t think of anything fun they could do.

“We could play v-”

“-We’re not playing volleyball,” Kageyama says, twists his hand and snatches at Hinata’s fingers. His palm is all sweaty, but it’s warm, and the familiar callouses send something calm and soothing melting through Hinata’s chest. “It’s too hot outside.”

“We could--”

“--We’re not playing volleyball _inside_ , either. Not again.”

Hinata doesn’t even try and argue. The crash and smash of the television is still ringing in his ears from the last time they tried practicing receives in the flat, and Hinata doesn’t much like the idea of forking out more money for _another_ new one.

“We could...” he starts, and for a second he trails off, waits for Kageyama to fill the space for him, and then a light flickers on in the back of his mind. He can’t understand, really, why he never even thought of it before; it’s _genius_ , maybe the best idea he’s ever had in the history of good ideas, ever.

“We could have sex!”

The tips of Kageyama’s ears burn pink.

It’s almost funny, the way the blood flushes up under Kageyama’s cheeks, stains the skin red and pools right over the bridge of his nose until there’s a big, rosie band wrapped right around the front of his face and Hinata laughs, scrambles over the sofa and presses his face in close to the side of Kageyama’s.

“Is that a yes, Kageyama-kun?” Hinata says, smile spread so wide over his face that his eyes fall into slits. Kageyama shuffles against the cushions and keeps his eyes fixed on the wall.

“It’s too hot,” he says, and Hinata shrugs.

“We have a fan,” he says. “C’mon, if we do I won’t be bored anymore, and we can even nap after! Then we’ll both be happy.”

Kageyama yawns, presses his palm over his mouth and scrubs a hand back through his hair. It’s only then that Hinata realises that Kageyama looks really, honestly tired. His eyes are red-rimmed and bruised with dark, puffy bags, and a twinge of guilt curls in Hinata’s stomach.

“We’ll be quick,” he says, and Kageyama stops mid-yawn and snorts into his fingers.

“You’re always quick,” he says, snickers when Hinata puffs air into his cheeks and slams his arms over his chest.

“Am not!” He says, and when Kageyama laughs again, he points an accusing finger and sneers, “well, you’re quicker.”

It’s really not true, if Hinata is being honest. More often than not he’s the first to finish - not by much, only seconds sometimes and it’s not his fault - but if Kageyama wants to start a fight, a fight is what he’ll get.

Kageyama’s expression sobers. He regards Hinata for a little too long - Hinata squirms under his stare, shuffles beneath the squint of his eyes - before squaring his shoulders.

“Wanna bet?”

Hinata, for all he can remember, has never, ever backed down from a competition. Not with anyone, but _especially_ not with Kageyama.

“What do I get when I win?”

He really doesn’t know why he’s being so bold - this is almost certainly a loss before it’s even begun -  and he’s already half regretting it as Kageyama drags him closer with two fingers hooked into his t-shirt because, honest truth, the look on Kageyama’s face is enough to have him twitching in his boxers. Kageyama knots his fingers right up into Hinata’s hair - it’s cropped short at the back, and Kageyama has to reach for the messy, knotted strands at the top of his head to find something to hold on to - and runs his lips over Hinata’s jaw.

“ _If_ you win,” Kageyama says, voice rumbling over the skin of Hinata’s cheek, “I’ll buy you meat buns every day for the next week. But when I win, you have to sleep on the window side of the bed for the rest of the summer.”

It’s an unfair wager, really, because a) Kageyama is one hundred per cent likely to win, and b) the window side of the bed gets _super_ hot during the summer and Hinata isn’t sure he can take six whole weeks of sleeping there. But there isn’t really time left for arguing.

“Fine.”

“Bedroom.”

It’s a disaster, trying to shuffle to the room, and it ends with a race to see who can squeeze through the narrow doorway first - the winner, it’s decided, shoulder to shoulder and pressed together between the doorframe, gets to top. There’s a wild moment where Hinata thinks they might really be stuck there, but then Kageyama pops through like a cork from a bottle and Hinata bubbles after, windmilling his arms to regain some balance.

The bedroom is, predictably, a mess. They tiptoe their way over pens and pencils, dog-eared books and crumpled scraps of paper - the remnants of their, frankly, piss-poor attempts at studying - and Hinata almost stands on an open tube of lubricant by the side of the bed.

Kageyama nudges him by the shoulders until he falls back onto the mattress. It’s both comfortable and a little thrilling, having Kageyama’s weight settled over him, but the glare from the sun where it’s peeking through the curtains is already sweat-tacking his skin and the air in the room is hot and stagnant.

“The fan,” Hinata says - gasps, because Kageyama has a hand wedged between them to palm him through his boxers - pushing himself up onto his elbows. “It’s so hot, oh my god.”

“Told you,” Kageyama says. He fumbles for the switch over the side of the bed. “We don’t have to, if it’s too hot in here.”

“Nuh-uh,” Hinata says, yanks his boxers down his thighs and throws them, defiant, to the floor. “No, we’re doing this. Unless you’re gonna chicken out, _Yamayama_.”

Kageyama is quick enough to remove what little clothing he was wearing - shorts and socks and nothing else - and Hinata is a little (a _lot_ ) smug to see the half-hard state of his dick.

Hinata swallows when the heat of Kageyama’s body looms over him again.

“We’re still doing this,” he says, defiant, “but I wanna go on top.”

There’s an argument, at that. It’s not like Hinata hadn’t expected it - _we made a deal, dumbass!_ \- but really, it’s too hot to be pinned under a great big body like Kageyama’s, and taking a dick _inside_ him is a totally different kind of stimulation so it’s not even a fair contest. Kageyama, for his part, is (irritatingly) right when he points out that switching roles just makes it unfair the other way around.  

“You’re gonna lose anyway, so what does it matter?” Kageyama says.

“Am not!” Hinata says, and he huffs, sinking back onto the mattress and throwing an arm over his face. “This isn’t gonna work. We need to make it fair.”

“Fine,” Kageyama says.

“Fine.”

It’s a lot of silence and thinking and awkward rearranging of pants before Hinata announces, with a triumphant flap of his hand, that they could use their mouths instead.

“That’s fair, right?” He says, and Kageyama chews the inside of his cheek. “It is. But who goes first?”

“We could...we could do it at the same time.”

Hinata isn’t really one to watch much porn - _really_ , even after everything he and Kageyama have done, he’s still a little squeamish about watching other people - so he’s never seen it happen, but he has heard of the concept of two people getting each other off like _that_ at the same time. He’s heard about it and he may have, accidentally, one time read a text about it on Suga’s phone when he really shouldn’t have been looking.

Even then, though, he’s never really thought about doing it. The logistics don’t make all that much sense in his head - he’s so much shorter than Kageyama that if he were on top, he isn’t wholly convinced he’d be able to reach and if Kageyama were on top, he’d surely be squashed into the mattress and he tells Kageyama so with this weird, worried kind of pull to his cheeks.

“You can do it sideways,” Kageyama says, and a light bulb flickers on in Hinata’s head. That...that really makes a whole lot more sense, and he’s a little disbelieving that Kageyama might have thought of that all on his own.

“Have you been watching dirty videos, _Tobio?”_

Kageyama squirms and his dick twitches between his thighs.

“Vulgar, Kageyama!” he says, reaches to cup his palm around him. 

“That’s cheating.” Kageyama’s voice is breathy and low and his hips jump up into Hinata’s hand. This, honestly, is his favourite thing about sex; watching Kageyama. He watches the way his head tips back, the smooth, tan skin stretching over the line of his jaw and down his neck, and the way his teeth nip at his bottom lip, eyes lidded and staring at him.

“You look good like this,” Hinata says - it comes out sounding dirtier than he’d expected because honestly, Kageyama does look good like this, and Hinata likes to tell him that.

Kageyama nudges Hinata’s hand away and lies back on the mattress. There’s a sliver of sunlight peeling through a gap in the curtain and it spills over the bed, splays across the expanse of Kageyama’s chest and Hinata watches the line of light move as Kageyama does, curling instead over his rib cage as he rolls onto his side, reaching a hand to wrap it around Hinata’s ankle.

  
“Come up here,” he says. Hinata shuffles his way down the mattress until he’s close enough for Kageyama’s hands to latch onto his hips. He lets himself be moved around, from there; Kageyama arranges his waist and his legs until Hinata can feel warm, uneven breath billowing over his crotch and then Kageyama stills, and Hinata cranes his neck up to look at him.

“Do I need to move?” He says, and Hinata takes a moment to assess. He can already feel muscle tension stiffening his neck, and he reaches to pull Kageyama’s thigh out and under the side of his head for something to rest on.

“You need to bend your back a bit,” Hinata says, and it’s a little grudging, because it wouldn’t need to happen if he weren’t so much _shorter_. Kageyama does and the arch is enough to bring Hinata face to face with the head of Kageyama’s dick.

“You’re hard already,” Hinata snickers, and Kageyama’s teeth sink into the flesh of his thigh.

“Shut up,” he says, curls an arm under Hinata’s hips and grips at his waist, then latches his open mouth near Hinata’s base and sucks at the skin.

“Oi! Not yet, _Bakayama!_ That’s not fair. We’ll do a count down.”

“Fine.”

Hinata pulls his cheeks tight to hide his grin, and licks at his lips.

“Okay! Start in three, two…”

Hinata sucks a breath, and takes Kageyama all the way to the back of his throat. Kageyama grunts out against him, the muscles in his stomach jumping, bowing his body until his dick presses deeper into Hinata’s mouth and his nose digs into Hinata’s groin.

“You little- _ah_ -you started early!” He says, and Hinata feels the thigh beneath his ear start to shake.

Kageyama takes the head of Hinata’s dick between his lips and sucks. Kageyama’s technique is tried and tested and irritatingly good; he starts slow, with soft sucks and a lot of saliva and he takes him inch by inch, smooths his lips back and forth over him and satisfies the rest with the curl of his fist, and already Hinata is rock hard and jumping in his mouth.

Hinata, too, sticks with what he knows best; he takes Kageyama right to the hilt, until the coarse hairs at Kageyama’s crotch are tickling his nose, and swallows. Once, twice, and each time Kageyama’s stomach tenses where it’s pressed to Hinata’s chest.

Kageyama sinks his mouth a little further down and Hinata moans around him, squeezes his eyes closed and presses his hips in, thrusts himself closer to the back of Kageyama’s throat.

Kageyama pulls his face back and splutters, and Hinata feels a trail of saliva trickle down onto his thigh.

“Don’t _thrust_ like that, idiot,” he says, and Hinata mumbles his sorry around Kageyama’s dick. If there’s one thing he’s _always_ going to win, it’s this. He’s used to it, to opening his mouth and flattening his tongue and letting Kageyama do the rest but Kageyama…

He coughs, sucks in a breath and mouths up the side of Hinata’s dick.

“Don’t do that again,” he says, and Hinata hums his acknowledgement and hollows his cheeks. He knows he’s doing pretty okay, with the way Kageyama’s hips are rutting slow and steady into his mouth, and he really thinks, for a moment, that he stands a chance, but then Kageyama’s fingers shift from his base to his balls and Hinata isn’t so sure anymore.  

They haven’t really established any _rules,_ so Hinata pulls his mouth off of Kageyama with a moan and a twitch of his hips, and he has to shuffle some to jerk Kageyama off with one hand and wet two fingers of the other in his mouth. His skin is hot and red and the air from the fan cools him in strips as it rotates back and forth, and Hinata tries to focus on that, rather than the feel of Kageyama’s tongue flicking at his slit.

Subtlety has never really been a strong suit of his, but Hinata tries his best to mask the movement of his fingers by taking Kageyama down in one and squeezing his throat around him and it must work, a little at least, because Kageyama’s legs tense when Hinata slips the tip of one finger inside of him.

“O-oh my god,” he says, words muffled where his lips press to Hinata’s tip, “you didn’t say we could put a finger in!”

Hinata huffs out a triumphant kind of breath and slips his eyes closed. Kageyama is warm in his mouth, thick and hot and throbbing and it’s not...it’s not like he really _enjoys_ doing it - it tastes weird, salty and kind of bitter, honestly, and his throat always kind of aches after - but even still, there’s something about the flex of Kageyama’s hips and the groan that blows through his nose that make it really, really worth it.

He isn’t ready when Kageyama retaliates. He must have found lube, Hinata thinks, because the slide of his finger is smooth and warm, and it wriggles until it’s pressing right up to the spot inside him that sends sparks zinging right up his spine.

“Gah- Kageyama,” he whines, and there’s maybe meant to be more to it but he isn’t sure what he was meant to _say,_ because Kageyama presses again and Hinata can feel himself leaking right over his tongue.

“Just,” Kageyama starts, and he pauses for a moment to pant as Hinata sucks on him, “just give up already.”

Hinata mumbles his reply around the length in his mouth. He could retaliate - in his head he does, he thinks of a million different replies that would be cooler and more awesome than _anything_ Kageyama could say - but he’s gaining a definite lead, if the way Kageyama is thrusting between his lips is anything to go by, and nothing is worth losing that. Not even the best comeback in the _world_.

“Fuck, Shouyou.”

 _That_ \- that throws him off balance. It isn’t all that often Kageyama calls him by his first name; he’s embarrassed, mostly, always blooms red right over his face whenever he tries to say it, and Hinata rolls his eyes to peek up at him but all he can see is a tangle of limbs and a flash of black hair.

“Shouyou,” he says, again, and Hinata’s lids flutter at the way he’s mouthing up the side of his dick, “you taste so good.”

Hinata pulls away with a wet pop.

“Shut up!” There’s heat billowing over his face and he twists to hide it against Kageyama’s leg. “Don’t say stuff like that, it’s embarrassing.”

Kageyama just mumbles, ruts himself along Hinata’s tongue and takes him back in his mouth. He’s pumping two long, thin fingers in Hinata, pressing and prodding until his knees are shaking. It’s good, so good, so much that he can barely focus on what he’s supposed to be doing - which is _winning_.

It isn’t until Kageyama stops that Hinata realises he has stopped, too. Kageyama’s fingers still, withdraw, and he pulls himself off of Hinata’s dick with a wet slurp.

“Giving up?” He says, and Hinata is really, honestly tempted to say yes. His head feels fuzzy and hazy, and without the press of Kageyama’s fingers he feels empty, too, and he squirms over the mattress.  

“Please,” he says, wraps a feeble hand around Kageyama’s base. “Keep going, Kageyama, _please_.”

Kageyama has never really been one for teasing. Hinata doesn’t think he has it in him, honestly; he’s too earnest with everything he does, whether it’s volleyball or sex or...well, he doesn’t really do anything else. Instead, he ups the ante - curls the fingers buried in Hinata, wraps his spare hand around his base and works the head in his mouth.

Hinata squeezes his eyes closed to savour every flick and curl of Kageyama’s tongue against him. It’s almost too much, and Hinata struggles to keep track of all of it - of the fingers in his ass and the hand on his dick and the _mouth_ wrapped so tight around him he can barely even breathe. Hinata fumbles a hand down until he finds Kageyama’s wrist and grips it tight, searches for fingers to squeeze between his own and Kageyama complies, releasing his hold around his dick to lace their hands together.  

Hinata, in his defense, does try to warn him. He tries multiple times, through whimpers and moans and even a pinch at his thigh to grab his attention, but Kageyama keeps sucking, keeps pressing his fingers and Hinata comes down his throat with a gasp and a cry and a hand reaching to burrow in Kageyama’s hair.

The worst part (or the best, he isn’t even sure) is that Kageyama doesn’t _stop,_ not right away. He keeps going, holds the hollow of his cheeks even as he swallows all that Hinata spills and his fingers keep working him, milking every drop.

He writhes on his fingers for _hours_ , it feels like, but the sun is still in the sky and Kageyama is still hard where he is bouncing against Hinata’s cheek. His touches turn soothing, gentle strokes that leave him twitching, and Hinata drags in a couple of loud, ragged breaths and pulls himself away.

“You win,” he grumbles. His legs are shaky where he pulls them beneath him. Kageyama is smirking, and Hinata catches the flick of his tongue where it comes to lick some of the excess from the corner of his mouth. He’s all red-lipped and heaving, pupils so big and blown they’re drowning out all of the colour in his eyes, and each breath comes rough and hoarse from his lungs.

“You expected anything else?”

Honestly, no, Hinata thinks, but he isn’t about to say it out loud. Instead he grumbles, nudges at Kageyama’s legs, shuffles until he is kneeling between them and he leans all the way over to press a kiss over the tip. Kageyama is eyeing him, and Hinata darts his tongue to wet his lips.

Kageyama braces his feet on the mattress either side of him. His thighs are shaking, muscles jumping under the skin, and Hinata knows that this really isn’t going to take much longer. Still, he goes slow, spreads his lips over him and slides until there’s warmth sitting at the back of his throat. Kageyama’s fingers slink into the hair at the back of his head and grip, scratch over his scalp and pull.

“Can I?” He says, and Hinata feels the shift of his feet beside him. He nods - it’s a little difficult, with a dick in his mouth - and hums his yes, and Kageyama starts a slow press of his hips to bury himself to the hilt.

Hinata slides a palm onto Kageyama’s stomach. He’s always liked this part; the feel of Kageyama working under him, the strain of his stomach and the shudder of his thighs as he works himself in his mouth. He chokes, a couple of times, holds back the urge to gag and sucks air through his nose.

“So good,” Kageyama grunts above him. He’s panting, and Hinata can picture the way his neck is straining, probably, head pushed back into the mattress, and the way his lip is caught between his teeth as he works himself in and out of his mouth. “Gonna come.”

He follows with a string of curses, a trail of _shit, oh shit, oh fuck, oh my god_ until he’s almost whimpering but when he comes, it’s almost silent, and his body goes taut, tight and tense and when it snaps, it’s with a long, shuddering sigh and a stuttering kind of jerk to his hips.

Hinata drinks him down with a cough and a splutter, and pulls back to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Kageyama’s body is still a bent like a bow, arched up and off the mattress and after a second he flops, lips spread in a satiated, triumphant kind of grin, and rolls to the far side of the bed.

He looks good. Not in the way boys look good in dirty magazines or videos or photographs he isn’t supposed to see, and not the kind of good that sets fire in Hinata’s gut, just... _good_ . He’s all soft, lidded eyes and mussed hair and sweat-slick skin, the kind of good that makes Hinata earnestly _happy,_ so happy it bubbles in his stomach and pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“Enjoy the window side,” he says, sighs, and Hinata drags himself up with a long, drawn groan and drops his weight over Kageyama’s chest.

“ _Kageyamaaa~_.”

Hinata burrows his face into Kageyama’s chest and huffs a breath that vibrates his lips over the skin. Kageyama is squirming, pushing and shoving Hinata by the shoulders and all he can do is laugh, thread his arms around Kageyama’s waist and cling. It’s not _funny_ , not even a little bit; he _hates_ the window side - they both do - and he lost a bet and by all counts he should be mopey, sullen and miserable, but Kageyama is soft and warm beneath him and he smells good, too, like a clean kind of sweat and the new gel they bought for the shower and Hinata settles himself against him and keeps on laughing.

“Oi,” Kageyama says, raps his knuckles against the stop of Hinata’s head, “idiot, what’s funny?”

Hinata pushes himself up to look at him. Kageyama’s cheeks are a little pink, eyes shining and his lips are red and wet and swollen and they look _good_ , so good Hinata has to kiss them, right now, before the world stops spinning or the sun falls out of the sky.

It’s always nice, the way Kageyama just...melts, when they kiss like this. When it’s slow and soft and deliberate; when there is nothing else behind it but some wild, uncontrollable burst of suffocating affection and Hinata smiles into Kageyama’s mouth, so big and wide that he’s kissing him with his teeth.

“Dumbass,” Kageyama says. There’s something in the airy, quiet way he says it that blooms warmth in Hinata’s chest and it fizzes in his gut, shimmies all the way down to his bones.

“Don’t think you can cuddle your way out of this,” Kageyama says, and Hinata pushes up on his elbows and prods his tongue between his teeth.

“We’re having a _moment_ , stupid,” he says. “Don’t ruin it!”

Kageyama scoffs and snorts, but his fingers card back through Hinata’s hair and he peppers kisses across his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose and up to his forehead.

“Kageyama?”

Hinata drops his cheek to Kageyama’s chest. They’re sticking together all down the line of his body, damp and tacky from the heat, and even in the warmth and the stifling, stagnant air, he’s feels content.

“Hm?”

Kageyama’s hand smooths down his back. Hinata tips his head, props his chin against Kageyama’s sternum and kicks his feet over the mattress. The air from the fan blows over him, raising goosebumps where it cools the sweat on his skin and the strips of sunlight creeping past the curtain bloom heat everywhere else.

“It’s  _really_ hot on the window side of the bed.”

“I know,” Kageyama says.

“Really, really hot. I might die.”

“Bet’s a bet.”

“ _Tobiooo~_.”

“ _What?_ ”

Hinata tips his face to bury his grin in Kageyama’s skin.

“Best two out of three?”

**Author's Note:**

> so sorry, but also a huge thank you for reading and sticking around to read more of my b u l l god bless y'all honestly


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